kafkaintherun
who tells the birds where to fly?
Tag: Poem
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the sky- doesn’t beg to be noticed it stretches slow and wide like a secret finally told. one last dance before folding into the arms of dusk, one last twirl into dusk’s arms. sunsets- sometimes feel like the beginning of a goodbye, or perhaps it is the sun screaming not yet. not yet. not yet.
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we are here now, now, now. still fighting for becoming. time is- subjective sense of becoming We are only what we are. here, now- not what we were nanoseconds ago not what we were nanoseconds ago who gives a dam about ghosts from our pasts anymore? lets stop- being afraid of what’s here this ugly,…
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who tells the birds where to fly?
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